


A Kiss Is Not Enough

by likethenight



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gawain is no stranger to desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss Is Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the knights500 LJ community challenge "Desire", c.2004/5.

Gawain is no stranger to desire. It has haunted his every moment since he realised that Galahad, at sixteen, was no longer the surly, skinny youngster who wished he was anywhere but here. The youngest knight grew up almost overnight and was suddenly a young man, a fine soldier and the best horseman of all of them. He was also, Gawain realised, suddenly extremely handsome, and the women of the fort ceased to hold any attraction for the older knight.

Galahad had no such reservations, it seemed, and for a while Gawain was quite unlike his usual equable self as he watched Galahad pass his time with one pretty wench or another. His desire tormented him with constant thoughts of the one thing he wanted more than anything else, the one thing he could never have. He began to draw away from Galahad, their past friendship sorely tried, on Gawain's part at least, by his unquiet mind.

Quite unexpectedly it was Galahad who turned the tables, one night after a particularly bloody skirmish when the comforts of the women were simply not enough. He persuaded Gawain out of the tavern and they wandered through the fort, talking quietly of the things they had seen that awful day. They had ended up sitting on the bank above the cemetery and Galahad had leaned his head on Gawain's shoulder for a moment, drinking in the much more substantial comfort of the older knight's strong, steady presence. And then he had sat up again and looked at Gawain, and the next thing Gawain knew Galahad was kissing him, wildly, desperately, and how could he do anything but respond?

That had only been the beginning of it. The fire between them was not quenched, nor was it lessened by that first dizzying encounter. It only grew hotter, more compelling, stoked with every kiss, every stolen moment, hands and mouths and skin and tongues, and more, always more, nothing ever quite enough. The thrill of secrecy, too, only added to the flames; to anyone else they were careful to appear only as friends, shield-brothers, never showing even a hint of what they truly shared. And yet always it crackled between them, like summer lightning or a forest fire, a constant reminder.

No, desire is no stranger to Gawain and his Galahad. It is a constant companion that changes and grows as they themselves do, never quite satisfied, always wanting more. And they give in gladly to its demands, for how could they ever wish to do otherwise?


End file.
